Welcome to Charity Sunday for April 2020.
I faced a dilemma, deciding what cause to support this month. The fact is, everyone is hurting – losing their jobs, their homes, their savings and their confidence in the future. Cut off from family members, friends and neighbors, and spiritual support, people are experiencing a level of uncertainty that few of us in developed countries have previously known.
Who needs help the most? Medical workers on the front lines, stretched to the limit, forced to make do with inadequate supplies? The elderly, the disabled and the chronically ill, for whom Covid-19 is likely a death sentence? Impoverished communities and people of color, living with environmental pollution that raises their risk a hundred-fold? Parents stuck at home, trying to make ends meet while keeping their children occupied and educated? The kids themselves, bored, depressed, possibly hungry, definitely scared?
Finally, I decided to focus on people nobody seems to care much about: immigrants, refugees and asylum seekers, especially those crammed into detention centers with little access to sanitation, health care, or hope. Amnesty International has an urgent action campaign to advocate for these individuals, whose situation makes them much more vulnerable than most groups. A single Covid-19 case in a crowded prison or refugee camp could wipe out thousands of people in a matter of days.
Nobody should be treated as an after-thought. And the fight for human rights never stops.
So this Charity Sunday, I will donate $2 to Amnesty International for each comment I receive. I usually keep my Charity Sunday offer open for a full month, but due to the urgency, this one will close on Thursday April 30th. So please comment – and tell your friend to come do the same!
Meanwhile – as usual, I have an excerpt for you. This is a bit from “Wired”, one of the light-hearted D/s stories in my collection Hearts &Handcuffs: Romantic Kink.
I’ll give away a copy of the book to one person who leaves a comment.
The building was mostly dark when I drove into the parking lot. A motion sensor switched on an overhead light as I approached the door. I punched in my security code. A buzz, a click, and I was in the lobby. The guard's desk was unoccupied. My footsteps echoed through the dim, empty corridors.
I slipped through the fire doors that led to my group's space. The glassed-in server room was lit, plus the ceiling fluorescents above Krishna's office. The floor was carpeted in this area. I moved without a sound.
Krishna sat with back to me, focused on his screen. From where I stood, outside his cubicle, I couldn't see what he was gazing at so intently. But I could guess.
“Krishna,” I murmured.
He swiveled around, simultaneously flicking the off switch on his monitor. I could tell that the move was well-practiced.
“Liz! What are you doing here?” As I entered the cubicle, he backed the chair towards the desk, apparently trying to put more distance between us.
“I came to visit you. I thought you might be lonely.” I took another step forward. He had nowhere to go. An embarrassed grin stretched his lush lips.
His shirt was open to the middle button. A gold chain nestled in the black curls on his breast. He was breathing hard; the rise and fall of his chest made the necklace glitter. I dropped my gaze to his lap. As I expected, I found a significant bulge.
“Um―no―I'm fine―just making sure the backups are all right. I was going to leave in a few minutes...”
I brushed a fingertip across the lump in his groin. He shivered. His nervous smile evaporated.
“Don't go yet,” I crooned. “I just got here.”
I had changed out of my work clothes. I now wore a tight purple jersey with a V neck that flattered my modest breasts and a short denim skirt. I trailed a finger down my throat to my cleavage. Krishna's eyes followed in fascination. I retraced my path to my throat, the feathery touch making my nipples pebble, and removed the scarf I'd draped around my neck.
He gripped the curved arms of his desk chair, as though he were afraid he was going to faint. I slipped the scarf under the chair arm and wrapped it twice around his wrist, then tied a firm knot. He didn't move. The lavender silk was lovely against his brown skin.
“Is that too tight?” My voice was barely louder than a whisper. Krishna shook his head. His eyes were black pools of lust. I pulled a second scarf from my back pocket, this one turquoise, and secured his other arm. He trembled when I touched him.
I seated myself on his lap. His erection poked deliciously at my bottom, even through the heavy denim of my skirt. He must be huge, I thought. I'd know before long.
His beautiful face hovered inches from mine. He dropped his eyes, focusing on his bound wrist.
“No,” I protested, lifting his chin so that he could not look away. “Look at me, for once. I've been trying to get your attention for months. You're not getting away from me this time.”
Krishna's lips parted, as though he was about to speak. I stopped him with a fierce kiss. At first he resisted, struggling against the scarves, his lips pressed tightly together to keep me out. I braced my palms against his chest and bore down on him, prying those lips apart with my tongue.
All at once he let go. His mouth was as lush and hot as it looked, tasting of coffee and anise. I fed on him, nibbling and sucking, pouring out my long-denied lust. He opened to me, not exactly passive, but giving me control.
My bare thighs grew damp with the heat of that kiss. My nipples peaked into aching knots. His smell surrounded me, soap and sweat and the coconut oil he used on his hair. His rod prodded the crack between my legs. I burrowed deeper into his mouth, kissing him harder.
Krishna arched up, grinding himself against my ass. I broke the kiss and hopped off his lap. “Oh no you don't! Your orgasm belongs to me.”
“Please, Liz!” Krishna looked miserable and needy.
“Oh, now you're begging!” I strutted back and forth in front of him on my high-heeled boots, giving him an eyeful of my slutty outfit. “Maybe I should just leave you here, tied up and frustrated. After all, you've frustrated me for an awfully long time.”
“What will Steve and Rob think when they come in tomorrow and find you tied to your chair? And when they turn on your monitor?”
I reached over his shoulder to click the switch. As I'd expected, the screen was full of kinky images, men hogtied and suspended, secured in a hundred uncomfortable positions, all with huge, hungry erections.
Krishna looked terrified. “Don't tell anyone―please don't tell! They'll deport me if they find out...”
“Your secret is safe with me.” I tangled my fingers in his opulent hair. “Provided that you cooperate, of course.”
Don’t forget to leave a comment! Every one means $2 to help immigrants and asylum seekers. And one person who comments will get a free book!
Plus - I hope you'll visit the other authors participating in today's Charity Sunday blog hop. Find out about the causes they're supporting - and leave your comment to help!